


The Hungry Dark

by shezni



Category: Doctor Who, Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shezni/pseuds/shezni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew aboard the Sleipnir have a new enemy to face, one even more deadly than the Colterons. Abel and his companions fight to survive as the most primal of human fears comes to life and threatens to consume them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Attack

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Welcome to my first offering to the Starfighter community as well as my first attempt at horror. As such, critique is highly appreciated! This will be a multi-chapter fic, although how many chapters it will be shall remain a mystery. And yes, it is a slight Doctor Who crossover, but it mostly takes place within the canon of Starfighter and you need no prior knowledge of Doctor Who to enjoy this fic. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

      The whole emergency started much like it would end. Another day, another late night in the lab. Abel had been working on Cook’s assignment for far too long again that day, and working after lights out had become all too common. The young navigator glanced up from his work to look at the clock and tried unsuccessfully to hold back a sigh. The pale lights of the clock seemed to glow in reprimand. Two o’ clock again. Even Cain would be back in their room by now. The young navigator returned his gaze to his screen, temporarily getting lost in the jumble of equations and measurements that he’d been working on for the past five hours. This engine configuration had been harder than he could have anticipated. He was beginning to wonder whether he was the right one for the job.  No matter how many hours he spent in the lab, he never seemed to get any closer. He picked up a cup of juice sitting by his computer, sipping the drink half-heartedly. Keeler had given it to him earlier in the night accompanied with his usual smile and admonishment not to work too hard. Maybe one day, Abel thought to himself, he’d actually take that advice to heart.

      Even Cain had started to express some concern for his navigator. He never expressed it out loud, but in annoyingly indirect ways. He would gripe and moan when Abel dragged his feet into their room in the wee hours of the morning, but there was no threat behind his words. Abel would catch him gazing at him from across the room with some indescribable look on his face. One day, after a particularly late night, Cain hardly said anything at all. He simply looked Abel in the eye, level and calm. "Don't you push yourself too hard, alright?" he's said, running his fingers through his partner’s hair. "I don't want you ruining that pretty little figure of yours, got it?" It was the kindest thing Cain had said in weeks. Although it was a warm gesture, it made the hairs on the back of Abel’s neck stand on end. Pretty soon he’d start making him tea. If that wasn’t a sign of the end of days, Abel didn’t know what was.

     The soft click-clacking of another active keyboard startled Abel out of his thoughts. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t here alone tonight. It was so easy to lose oneself in the night, and somehow the dim noises of the engines and hard drives made the moments of silence even more profound. The other man in the room came in some time before midnight, carrying a stack of old leather-bound books so high that Abel couldn't even see the his face. Abel could tell he was a navigator from his white uniform, but he couldn't recognize anything distinctive about him. He had tried to say hello, but he was met with silence. The man probably didn't even know he was there.

     "He must be the new information specialist," Abel thought to himself. No one else on the Sleipnir would ever bother with something so archaic. Those books must have been hundreds of years old. He was probably just inputting the information into the database so the books could be done away with. Every pound of cargo counted after all. A shame, really, Abel thought. I would have liked to take a look at them. He had a soft spot for such artifacts, ever since he was a young boy. He briefly considered going over to the shipmate and asking him if he could take a look, but decided against it. It would be too awkward, and they both had work to do.

     Abel turned back to his screen and began inputting a formula. One more, he thought to himself. One more and I'm done. I'll go back to Cain after this one formula. He heard the click-clack of the keyboard on the other side of the room. The hum of the engines. The work entranced him, threatened to consume him almost. One formula became two, became three, became five. The next Abel had the impetus to look up, it was nearly four, the longest he had ever worked.

Nothing had worked of course but at this point Abel wasn't surprised and he could have cared less. All he wanted was to get himself away from this pitch-dark room and overly complex engine design and fall asleep in Cain's arms. He took one last swig of his juice, saved his program and walked to the door of the lab, feeling his way around the darkness.

      He had taken no more than a few steps from freedom when he heard it. The hiss. Abel stopped in his tracks. This wasn't some gas leak or airlock door. It was a loud, wet, ugly hiss that almost sounded like some crude slurp. Abel's hair stood on end. He had never heard anything like it in his life. And it had come from the back of the lab. Taking a deep breath, Abel turned around and looked across the room. He could hardly see anything, the room was so dark. Most of the computers were still off, save the other navigator's. Abel almost turned to leave, but something kept him standing there. Something was wrong but he couldn't place his finger on it. He stood completely still, listening hard. The whir of the hard drives. The hum of the engines. The frantic beating of his own heart. Then his eyes flew open in sudden realization.

     The typing had stopped.

     The once persistent clicking was absent. Abel didn't hear a sound from the other navigator. Every fiber of his being told him to get the hell out, but Abel did his best to try and tame his fear. Be rational, he scolded himself. There's nothing wrong. He just fell asleep or he's done for the night. "There can't be anything wrong," he whispered hoarsely to himself. His own voice had never sounded so fake. He could try and calm himself all day, but he knew things weren't right. The hiss was more than enough proof of that. Gathering his nerve, he made his way over to where the other man was sitting, moving slowly and cautiously through the dark. He turned the final corner and peered over the table to check on his shipmate. As soon as he saw the work station, he turned away, pressing one bloodless hand hard against his mouth.

     Sitting in the place where the navigator had been was a skeleton, slumped over the keyboard and bathed in the unnatural light of the computer screen. It looked harmless, almost ridiculous, as clean and white as the fake teaching skeletons in the classrooms back on Earth. But the jaw was open in a silent scream and the arms and legs were grotesquely askew. Some of the bones were cracked and split open and small, sharp fragments littered the ground around his feet. It looked too real to be a joke, but it was too horrific to be anything but.

     Abel swallowed hard and stepped back. His mind raced wildly, trying to figure out what he could do, what could have done this, how it could even be real. Whatever had happened, the man hadn’t had time to react. His computer was still on, a report stopped in mid-sentence. The glow cast weird shadows around the walls. They seemed to loom over the dead man like witnesses to a funeral rite. Abel shook violently, all attempts to calm himself down failing. This wasn’t like fighting Colterons, hurtling through missile-filed space. This was something he couldn’t see, something he didn’t even know was real. Somehow he gathered enough good sense to reach into his pocket and pull out his communicator. He dialed the emergency contact number and waited in agony, whipping his head around at every sound, real or imagined. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he heard a voice from the other side.

               “Sleipnir Emergency services, what’s the situation?”

Abel didn’t lose any time. “I’ve got a casualty,” he replied, trying desperately not to stammer, “A navigator. He’s been-“ Abel stared at the pile of bones and swallowed hard. “He’s dead.”

      There was silence. Then the voice returned. “Son, I need you to remain calm. Check his identification and read me his name, rank and number.” Abel nodded stupidly, then quickly added a short ‘yes’ before he inched toward the remains of his shipmate. He reached out to grab his tags, but then all at once

 

            The shadows around him moved.

 

       They didn’t just move, flickering like the cheerful dancing shadows around a fire. They _lurched_ , collectively, like a wounded beast in Abel’s general direction. He didn’t even bother crying out. He only ran as fast as his legs could carry him, maybe faster judging by how sore he would be the next morning. His fingers flew over the security keypad and he bolted down the hall before the doors had even finished closing. He only looked behind him once, but the shadows in the hall made it impossible to figure out whether that thing was tailing him or not. It could have been nipping at his heels for all he knew. The thought only made him turn around and run faster. He didn’t slow down until he had reached his bed, throwing himself down on his covers gasping for breath. It took him a while to register Cain sitting bolt upright and shouting, staring at Abel as if he had lost his mind.

        “I said,” the fighter repeated angrily, “what the hell do you think you’re doing at four in the fucking morning?”

Abel didn’t reply until his heart had stopped trying to hammer its way out of his chest. Then he sat up and looked Cain dead in the face, still trembling with adrenaline and fear.

        “Call Bering and Cook. Tell them…tell them we have an emergency.” 


	2. Thy Name Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha WOW this took a long-ass time. Sorry about that? Life, lack of skill and laziness got in the way. I apologize profusely for any huge mistakes in this chapter, but since I restarted it about 50 times, I figured if I looked through it too much I would quit, change my name, move to Siberia, lie down in a field and die. So here it is! In all it's glory! Feel free to critique. I am always open to improvement!

            Abel stood out in the hallway, waiting patiently outside of Commander Cook’s office and hoping he was in. Neither Cook nor Bering had responded to Cain’s call, much to their frustration. The thought crossed his mind that Cook and Bering had already fallen victim to whatever had devoured that unfortunate navigator, but Abel did his best to push the uneasy feeling from his mind. It would do him no good to lose control and start panicking again. After what seemed like hours, the doors to the office slid open silently, and he heard Cook’s sharp order to come inside, much to his relief. Abel had never been inside Cook’s office before. In fact, he didn’t even know anyone who had. Cook had always preferred to deal with his men in the halls and work spaces of the Sleipnir, observing things closely while still maintaining a professional distance. Everyone knew he wasn’t the chattiest man on board, but his coldness went deeper than Abel had thought. His workspace was as enigmatic as the man himself. Barely any personal items were to be found, only the degrees and certificates of his prestigious education on the walls. There wasn’t even an obligatory “family back home” picture gracing his pristine desk. Commander Cook looked up from his monitor, hands clasped neatly in front of him.

“I assume you aren’t here to sightsee, private,” Cook said sharply. “State your business and be on your way. I have important matters to attend to.”

Abel reddened, embarrassed that he had been caught inspecting his superior’s office so obviously, and sat down quickly in the tiny metal chair facing the desk, thoroughly rebuffed. He recounted his experience as well as he could, stumbling over his words under the critical gaze of his commander. The more he said, the more ridiculous the whole thing sounded. Why on earth had he expected anyone to believe him? Moving shadows and a ragged skeleton seemed to be straight out of the scary stories drunk men told on particularly quiet nights for fun. When Abel ended his tale, he sat in silence staring at his clenched hands, expecting a reprimand or a demerit for attempting to lead on an officer with silly stories of ghosts and monsters.

“Abel.”

The embarrassed navigator looked up, shocked at the concerned tone of his commander. The look in Cook’s eyes was equal parts heartening and disturbing. Even from behind his glasses, he could see incredulity mixed with fear, along with something else that made Abel’s blood run cold.

            “Sir,” Abel began cautiously, “have you…seen something like this before?”

            Cook remained silent, but his expression grew clouded and dark.

            “Return to your bunk,” he replied quietly, turning back to his monitor. “I will send an investigative squad to inspect the lab as soon as possible.

            Abel stood shakily and saluted, but as soon as he turned his heels to escape the stifling office, Cook reached out his hand and grabbed Abel’s wrist, holding onto him so hard he could see the commander’s knuckles turn white.

            “You listen to me, Abel,” Cook said with tension in his voice, “do not tell anyone of this and whatever you do, do not attempt to investigate this yourself. The force you encountered is not anything anyone should ever pursue under any circumstances. You are extremely important to this mission and we would be loath to lose you.”

            Abel nodded in reply, stunned by Cook’s sudden loss of control. He slipped his hand out of the commander’s grip and all but ran out the door, nearly slamming into them in the process. As he walked through the halls back to his and Cain’s room, he tried to put the pieces together as well as he could, but nothing made sense. What sort of creature could strip a man to the bone in mere seconds? Was it even a beast? It could be some sort of nanomachine, engineered by the Colterons to destroy human forces from within. But somehow, it didn’t seem that way to Abel. Something that advanced could have been targeted at the commanders, knocking out the ship’s leaders before working its way to the enlisted men. The first victim had been nothing but an ordinary information specialist, one of the lowest of the low in regards to ranking. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to have any real motive. It was just hungry. And insatiably so.

            Abel punched in the code for his and Cain’s room and dragged himself in, completely at a loss. Cain sat in the middle of their combined cots, his expression souring when he took in Abel’s dejected state.

            “No good, huh? Typical,” Cain snorted.

            Abel bristled at Cain’s flippant attitude. “Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do? Our superiors are the best equipped to deal with this sort of thing! I’m sure they can work out what it is and how to stop it once they gather enough-“

            Cain interrupted with a sharp laugh. “You think they’ll be able to deal with this thing by sniffing around the lab and scratching their chins? Don’t count on it. Whatever wasted that navigator wasn’t natural. They’re gonna need more that an inspection to get out of this one.”

            Abel scoffed. “Not natural? Of course it’s natural! It has to be. It’s probably some kind of bacteria or a group of nanomachines. You don’t honestly think this is some kind of ghost or something….”

            Abel’s voice trailed off when he took in the serious expression on Cain’s face. He slowly sat down next to him on the cot, searching for any trace of doubt on his features.

            “Cain, you don’t actually think…”

            The fighter turned away, grimacing. “Look, colony folk aren’t as educated and fancy as you Earthlings, okay. We’ve got stories, old stories that started back on Earth that gets dredged up again by who-the-hell-knows-what. And sometimes, those crazy stories are the only answers we get for what goes on out there. Brand new ships’ll break down for no reason. Animals go nuts and rip each other to pieces. Things go missing.” Cain’s expression darkened. “People go missing.”

            “But Cain,” Abel started cautiously, “That’s can probably all be explained too. Sometimes things happen and even if we don’t know what caused it right away, it’s got to be in the realm of reason.”

            “Then tell me, _Abel_ ,” Cain snapped, “what about a man being eaten alive in seconds by some invisible monster is _within the realm of fucking reason?_ ”

            Abel stared at Cain, mouth agape.  He had never seen Cain so open, so _scared_. He knew that Cain could be vulnerable, but to show it so openly was unlike him. Without even thinking, Abel’s wrapped his arm around Cain’s shoulder and pulled him close, his head leaning to rest on his shoulder. He could feel Cain’s muscles tense in protest, then relax as he settled into Abel’s embrace.

            “Look, it’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out. In the meantime, we have to try not to lose our heads.”

            Cain chuckled darkly. “Yeah, we should try not to lose the rest of our body parts while we’re at it.”

            Abel smiled, and for the first time since the moving shadows in the lab, he felt at peace. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so close to Cain. Even when they had sex, all the grasping and sweaty desperation seems miles away from this simple, warm touch. He could feel their steady breathing fall in sync, the scent of Cain’s sweat and the feeling of his shirt’s cloth on his cheek. Abel closed his eyes and tried to imprint every sensation in his mind. Who knew when things would be this way again?

            The serenity was interrupted by soft knocking at their door. Cain reluctantly pulled himself away from Abel and opened the door to reveal a fighter fidgeting nervously in the entryway. Abel shifted his position to get a better look at their guest. He was a thin, mousy-looking character with dark hair swept over his eyes. In his hands, he carried a blue worn-out jounal with a panel design on both sides of the cover. Abel thought he had seen the fighter around the ship from time to time, but he couldn’t recall his name.

            “Ah, _myshonok_.” Cain said, waving the fighter into the room, “You took your sweet time. Find anything good?”

            The fighter nodded, then glanced at Abel, a look of disdain on his face. The navigator flushed, then looked away. What could he have done to earn that sort of look? He might have just attributed it to typically navigator-fighter tensions, but that expression seemed to hold something more personal. Abel resolved to ask Cain about it later. For now, he had a more pressing inquiry.

            “What do you mean by ‘anything good’?” Abel asked. He stood and walked toward the two fighters, hoping to get a better look at what their guest had in his hand.

            “What, you think I was just gonna sit on my haunches while the higher-ups deal with that thing? I got Deimos here to do a little digging around for me.”

            Abel looked Deimos over quizzically. He was dressed in the standard regulation uniform and had no officer’s insignia or special level clearance badge. He seemed like an ordinary fighter, one that could barely get into the mess hall without going through a checkpoint let alone access clandestine records and information.

            Cain caught Abel’s gaze and seemed to understand his confusion. “Yeah, he ain’t a lot to look at, but the little bastard’s got moves. He probably snuck this baby out of the archive room right under those lazy guards’ noses.”

             Deimos nodded smiled faintly, and then opened the journal at a particular page and presented to Cain, effectively ignoring Abel. Abel looked over Cain’s shoulder and read the first part of the entry. The words on the page seemed to leap out at him in sharp fragments, embedding their cruel meanings in his mind.

Microscopic carnivores. Travel in swarms. Silent. Starving. _Always_ starving. Found in every corner of the universe. The most feared species in the history of everything that ever was. The Living Shadow.

The Vashta Nerada.


End file.
